A Retun to Normal
by artiist1284
Summary: They Survived, Victors. The Rebels won and the Capital has fallen. The Girl on Fire is no more, now, but a girl named Katniss Everdeen trying to return to a normal life. Mother won't come home, sister is dead. There's the drunk Haymitch and Peeta, the boy with the bread. Time passes, they grow together and Katniss discovers a new type of Hunger. Returning home in the MockingJay.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** My first attempt at The Hunger Games stories. Enjoy :)

Peeta and Katniss Pairing. Starts at the end of MockingJay, their return home and how they try to return to a normal life after all they encountered in their lives from the Capital, the Rebel War, to The Hunger Games. And the loss and death of so many loved ones. Time passes, they grow together and Katniss feels a new type of hunger.

 **Rating:** K+ - T

 **Disclaimer:** Story, rights and characters belong to Suzanne Collins. Nothing is mine except the idea of this story.

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 **Normal**

Normal.

It was being hungry. No, starving. To escape? Survive? Watching bones push through tight skin. Swollen bellies and sunken eyes.

There was always a mouth to feed whether your own or those you knew.

Normal use to mean death to anyone foolish enough to escape the electrical fence encasing Distric 12, to run or hunt. It didn't matter.

It use to mean a girl and boy who defied the norm to keep their families alive from the ever growing body count in their small town. Like I said, always a mouth to feed.

I let go of the taunt string, hearing the soft whoosh of my arrow as it cuts the air. Finding home in the eye socket of a grey squirrel. Another good kill to add to the haul.

Normal use to mean a partner to hunt with, to share stories, fears, dreams and-

"Gale." I whisper, and wonder if he can hear. I yank the arrow from the Squirrel's skull.

A Perfect kill.

I straighten up and turn around, expecting him to be standing there with his usual smirk and quip to irk me. How in the time it took to bag the squirel, he already snared 3 rabbits, shot 2 turkeys and brought down a deer with his bare hands.

I laugh like I could actually hear him tease me with his ridiculous tale. Then my eyes come to and see he's not really standing there saying those things. I shake my head. That's right, he's in District 2 now. I really can't say that I'm upset about it, either. Just mourning for the past, I guess.

Now, with all that has occurred with the Rebels, and war. The end of the Hunger Games and the fall of the old Capital. Normal has now become a girl alone in the woods, hunting, not becuase of starving. No, there will aways be a hunger, though, for something...Someone.

I still think about him sometimes, in District 2, wondering what his life is like. If there are other lips he is kissing. I'm sure there are. I think about our time, over 5 years, here amongst the Spruce and Pines, illegal kills in order to survive.

Our chats. Our laughs. Our anger...

And like he said would happen. It hits me, the reason I can't stand to think about him without thinking about-Don't.

It's only been four months since I been sent home. Released, under Haymitch's watch-Right. Many months since the fall of the old Capital, the end of the horrible war. The bombs and burning of innocent children in front of President's Snow house.

My chest tightens and it feels like my heart seizes up to an almost painful stop. I think I might be having a heart attack. But I'm only about to be 18. My hand grabs painfully tight against the rough bark of a tree close to me. The dead squirrel hanging limp in my other as I try to dispel feelings, memories from consuming me. Like a fire.

I lean my back against the tree, my hand instictively going to the pocket of my father's hunting jacket and fingers the cool Pearl inside.

It steadies me, makes me feel more rooted to the ground. Like the dirt isn't trying to swallow me up into some dark, deep abyss. You're not in the Hunger Games anymore, Katniss. I repeat to myself like a mantra.

And with the touch of the Pearl comes thoughts of the giver. Strong, blond-sandy hair, blue-eyes, son of a baker. A baker himself, with a heart I didn't deserve to claim.

The boy with the bread.

"Peeta." I say, almost sigh, and my lips can't help but hint at a smile. A genuine smile.

Finnick was right, there was-is something there. Something I still don't have a name to yet. That something that comes to me a little at a time day by day.

Love? I don't know. But obviously I do care and everyday I find that I do want to find out.

Without the daunting threat of death hanging over our heads from President Snow to convince him of our "love." Or the constant buzz and invasion of cameras relentless to catch every glimpse of the "Star-Crossed Lovers", around anymore.

All that pressure gone, comes the clarity to see, to feel honestly that _something_ there between us...though slow going as it is. The latter being mainly on my end of things.

He doesn't push, he doesn't complain. He gives me space and time to figure it all out.

"You could live a thousand life times and still not deserve that boy." Creeps in Haymitch's words from what seemed like another life time ago.

"I know." I agree bitterly to my dinner lifted up in my left hand.

And Peeta knows, but yet he still loves me despite it. He seen my worst and best and still wants me.

His kind act just a few weeks ago comes to mind. The evening Primrose planted outside the house, my home in the Victor's Village. I wanted to thank him properly. To kiss him, foreal this time. But my emotions were so raw from her death. It took forever for me to be able to say her name without bursting into tears.

After finally digesting the fact he was back, Peeta home again. The dark inside me once again filled with his light. No, not white but colors of every hue possible. Emerald green grass, Orange, not like, once Effie's hair had been. But soft orange sunsets...

Now I really do have a stupid grin on my mouth. Lucky me he isn't around or he would know exactly why. I may be an open book but only he can read me.

"Come on," I say to my only companion right now in the woods. "We have a dinner to attend."

The squirrel doesn't objects, after stuffing him in the hunting bag. I scoop up my sheath of arrows with bow, slinging it on my back and head through the trees to District 12. To my home.

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 **A/N:** More to come! Hopefully you enjoyed! Please Review!


	2. Chapter 2

**Invites and Surprises**

There are families I stop by first in the Seam to deposit some of the haul from today's hunt. No longer starving, but poverty is still a problem in the district. Still plenty of hungry mouths to feed as District 12 slowly finds its feet again with the rebuild.

The streets are mainly dirt, rocks and ash, where once soot from the coal mines use to cover everything like a blanket in thick layers. Now it's the remains of what once was our first District 12. I try to not think about what I might still be stepping on, with what's been left behind from the clean up.

I just keep my head up and eyes forward as I walk from one shanty to another passing out goods. A few fish here to the Lindels, 3 or so rabbits to the Fergons and fresh herbs to the Chents.

My last stop in the Seam is Delly's new shack with some relatives from her mother's side. Delly, the girl who sung my praise in District 13 and had helped with Peeta when he was nothing more then the Capital's mindless weapon.

Along with a few hundred others from District 13 and District 12 natives, had come back home. She's become a good friend over the past weeks. When I'm with her though, I can't help but be reminded of my friendship with Madge, the Mayor's dauther. Well, use to be Mayor.

And like Madge and her family, Delly and her relatives have a fond taste for straberries. I can't seem to keep up with their demand at times. I give a couple small bags full and like always refuse their offer of coins or barter.

I have more money then I know what to do with, anyway.

Delly, though, won't let me leave until I accpeted her gift of a small sweater she has knitted for, Buttercup. My sister's scroungy, flea-ridden cat.

Prim's cat. Prim...

My eyes begin to water and I quickly dispose of them on the sleeve of my father's jacket. Delly knows by now not to show any kind of remorse, I can't take it. I'll just end up balling in front of her and her family and feel stupid.

"Thank you," I say, taking the mini orange and green stripped sweater. "I think he'll like it."

He's going to hate it. But I will certainly enjoy torturing him with the offended article.

I say my goodbyes, leaving her house and crossing the dirt road to walk along side the Meadow. No longer contianing just green grass and small flowers, now a very large cementary. A sort of memorial to the thousands killed in the Distric 12 bombing.

You could never tell, from the looks of it, it's just a field of grass with the start of blooming flowers and growth of weeds.

Making my way to the square and deeper into Town, pleased the stares and gawks have finally ceased. Besides the burns that are healing up rather nicely on my skin, thanks to the New Capital's advance medicine. I'm no longer the Girl on Fire to most people, just Katniss Everdeen.

And I'm happy.

I make my usual trade of rabbits, birds and berries with the few colorful shops that have started up again. For which I get my haul to keep of peppermint candies, medicinal supplies, along with a few gifts of white liquor for Haymitch and some paints with brushes for Peeta.

It all gets carefully stuffed into my hunting bag and slung over my shoulder. Walking past, my eyes catch sight of the goods displayed in the new Bakery window. I back up, noticing the intricate frosted, powder-pink flowers adorned on tiered cakes.

Nowhere near as good as Peeta's handi work and from the style, I can tell the baker must be getting lessons and tips from him. I stop in to spend some coin in support of local business, none the less, on some fancy looking cupcakes that reminds me of Effie's hair.

In good time I make it back to the stone Arch proclaming Victor's Village. The only part of District 12 that wasn't damaged in the bombings. Who really knows, why not? I'm just grateful to have a nice place to call home. And after some setteling, I have to admit, it's starting to feel that way.

My small mansion-style home is the first on the right, next to mine, the second house on the right is Haymitch's ho-pig stye. Across from me, the first house on the left, seperated by a whole 12 feet is Peeta's home.

I take a moment to stare at them, and predicting from the way the rays of the sun gleams off the whites of the sidding. It must be almost noon, which means Haymitch should still be stinking drunk.

My feet make quick work on the 3 steps it takes to get to Haymitch's front door and knock, knowing I won't get an answer. Why do I bother?

As an after thouht, I push it open making my way through the piles of trash and broken furniture linning the floor to the kitchen. Things really not being the same since Gale had his mother and siblings moved to District 2 to be close, to take care of them. Goodbye to good housekeeping and hello again to mold, rats and trash.

Haymitch, no surprise, is there in the kitchen; feet propped up on the cluttered dinning table. He is leaning on the back legs of his chair, head back, shoulders slacked and knuckles draging the floor.

He really does make it too easy sometimes.

In front of him on the table linned, with stuff I rather not look too closely at, if the smells is any indication, a glass pitcher half filled with water.

This felt familar...

Haymitch comes to as the world falls under him, sputtering and cursing from the dousing I just gave him. "Damn! What the He-"

His lost of balance sends him crashing to the floor, knife slashing the air above him. He pushes back his tousled, wet locks from his eyes, contempt etched on his face, seeing it's only me. I can't help the laugh that escapes, seeing him fall and dismayed.

"Really? Again?" Haymitch whines, accepting my hand as I help him back upright into his seat.

"There's no cameras, no propos or Games for that matter to get you ready for...Why are you here?"

I roll my eyes and shake my head at his grouchiness. "Nice to see you too, Haymitch..."

Clearing what I was willing to touch of dishes from off the dinning table and quickly into the sink. I deposit my brown satchel on top. "...we're only like neighbors."

He raises his brow at me, head leaning on his folded arms, wanting me to get to the point of my visit already.

"I caught a squirrel." I happily exclaimed, pulling the carcas by the tail out of my bag for him to examine.

"You had better kills." He smirks teasingly, as I drop my face at him. " and..."

He stops, squinting his eyes toward me as if trying to see something better. "Why are you all glowing like?"

My face scruntches up in confusion, I have no idea what he's talking about, but my heart does double-time in my chest anyway. With Haymitch, hung-over who knows what state his mind is in from one minute to the next.

"And why, is that..." A grin breaks out over his aged face. He's messing with me. "...an honest-to-goodness real smile, Sweetheart?."

It's been happening lately, my lips doing something I've been rarely known to do. Of their own accord, it seems. Smiling. I quickly grab an apple from my bag to bite into it and hide the fact that my lips were. But they still are, even if it's a small one.

Just thinking about him makes my pulse quicken, and brings on those feelings of butterflies swimming around inside. This, I guess, this is what people who are on the path to Love feel like. I wouldn't really know since I have no experience with it between a girl and boy.

I shake my head and toss my bitten apple into the bag to save for later.

"I can see the boy being back, is doing you some good. No longer stinky, and brooding away in the kitchen."

"Unlike you." I counter.

"Touche." Haymitch replies before taking a swig from the last dredges of a bottle near him.

"Now if you and you're friend, " referring to the squirrel. "are done here. I like to get back to my nap."

I yank back the squirrel into my hunting bag before it catches some type of disease from Haymitch's table. "I came over to invite you to dinner."

He pops open an eye from his folded arms. "Let me guess, Peeta?"

I shrug innocently, like it's no big deal, actually trying to do what Peeta suggested would be good for us. Since we seem to be the only family each other have, anymore. My mother refuses to come home. Prim is...gone. Peeta's entire family died in the bombing that flatten District 12 and Haymitch-He doesn't speak about his. We're all orphans or alone in some way.

"It just sounds like a good idea." Is my weak argument and only thing I can think to say.

"Well look at you, trying to score some brownie points." Wanting to wipe the smug look off his face, but I just glare instead at his words. "Looks like the boy caught himself a MockingJay."

Before I can even try to deny it, our heads turn toward the smells of fresh baked goods and the person there in the doorway cheerfully smiling.

"I caught what?" Peeta decides at that momment to show up, toating his usual of fresh baked breads and cheese buns.

Heat swarms through my cheeks, and from the crooked smile on Haymitch's face, they're flushed. I'm seriously blushing! The creased brow of suspecion from Peeta isn't helping my reaction any or the fact he might of caught some of what our retired Mentor had said.

"Is everything ok?" Peeta asks, I can feel his concern towards me.

"I'll say it finally is." Haymitch says holding up a liqour bottle like a toast and about to take a drink when he realizes it's empty.

He lets out a small grunt at the slight kick I give to his leg under the table before walking over to stand closer to the boy with the bread. I grab one of the cheesebuns, trying not to seem out of place because the object of our talk and my body's reaction is him.

"Nothing," I reply to his earlier question. "I was just telling Haymitch about dinner tonight. Greasy Sae is making squirrel stew. I bagged one in the woods today."

Definitely not the Lamb stew of the Capital that I adore so much, but never underestimate what Greasy Sae can do with fresh game and scrapes of meat or anything really. She's a miracle worker when it comes to only having a bare minimal in food.

Peeta's face lights up in a smile, "So, we're doing it?"

I nod, dinner for three with the most unbalanced family I know.

I find my lips are mimicing the same back to him as I bring up the cheesebun to take a bite. He grabs my hand before I can sink my teeth in. My skin sizzeling from the friction of his touch. I look up into his blue eyes, not understanding but seeing he felt it too.

"Wait." He's finally able to say and pulls out a small glass jar filled with some deep red gel and pours it on top of my cheese bun. "Take a bite."

The gel is actually some type of crushed fruit, berries probably, with little small seeds that float inside the jam. My mouth encloses on a big piece, and then I'm transported to what Heaven has to taste like. The combined flavors of cheese and fruit explodes on my taste-buds, causing my eyes to close in pleasure.

"Wow, Peeta, these are amazing." It's all I can do from giving out a small moan of delight. The things he can do with flour and sweets should be wrong to taste so good.

The pleased look on his face tells me he got exactly the reaction he was hoping for.

"I'm giving the recipe to Samson down at the new Bakery. Maybe it will help bring in more customers for him."

Amazing is the word I think of, and it's not just the delicious new creation Peeta has made. It's him, so generous, so giving right down to the very marrow of his bones. We stand there staring at each other, smiling wide.

Before I know what he's doing, he lifts his hand toward my face. His thumb wiping what must be jam from the corner of my lips. My heart begins to do sprints in my chest and there is electricity lapping my skin with his touch.

My mouth goes dry and it seems impossible to swallow, let alone speak at this second.

"Thank you, Peeta." I manage to half squeak, half say, and in my embaressment, my cheeks flush hot-red again.

This causes an even wider smile from Peeta, his hand lingering, cupping my face as he enjoys the heat from my face on his fingers. "You're welcome, Katniss."

A long forgotten Haymitch breaks in, voice in mock exasperation. I can hear the teasing smile in his voice "Where was THIS chemistry when you're lives were on the line? Geesh!"

We pull apart from each other like guilty school children being caught kissing behind the red brick building. At least now I'm not the only one blushing. Peeta even gives out a little cough, feeling just as awkward as I am.

I quickly go to my hunting bag and retireve something from inside. Doing my best to dispel the awkwardness that doesn't relent. "Here, I got this from Town."

It's a paint set with colors I never even seen before, complete with a variety of different sized brushes. He takes it into his hands like it's something so precious of value, he dare not ruin it with fingerprints.

"I figured you could use it to start up a painting studio in one of the many rooms you own." I shrug in a nochalant manner.

Not wanting to make a big deal about the gift and before he can show or say any graditude. I go and retrieve my bag from the dinning table, slinging the strap around me.

"I better get going...get this squirrel to Greasy Sae to start on that stew."

"Ah. Ah. Ah." Haymitchs sounds, holding out his hand like he just knows about the bottles of white liqour I also got for him while in town. He must smell the stuff.

I pull out a bottle, on second thought, popping the cork I pour some into a seemingly clean glass. "You can get the rest of them after you come to dinner tonight."

He lifts a brow at me but shrugs and downs it in one glup before returning his head down to his folded arms. "Fine, I'll go to your little dinner." Comes his muffled reply.

I just shake my head, amused, and head out to leave to my own house.

Peeta places his hand lightly around my wrist, bringing me to a hault. "Walk you home?"

I smile, giggling inside because it will be a very short walk, but I let him. "Sure."

He closes the front door to Haymitch's house behind us while I wait on the small porch for him to join me side by side. We walk slow, both wanting to drag out,as much as possible,the short distance to my house.

In our nearness, our shoulders rub and the back of our hands lightly touch. Without thinking, because if I did, I would just secound guess myself and not do it. I slip my hands into his and we instantly intwine our fingers.

He looks up at me and I look down at the passing sidewalk beneath our feet, smiling and it's real. Not like the many times I performed in front of the cameras just to play the role. And I find that I like it. His touch and warmth, comforts me like nothing man made; morphling, white liqour, theraphy, could ever do.

In this moment I realize how much I missed him not being around while I was so absorbed with self pity and pain over so much change and loss in my life.

All too soon we're standing in front of my place, but our hands remain glued together.

"Well, we're here." Peeta says just to fill the silence and to give me a reason to let go of his hand if I wanted to.

But I don't feel any pressure to let go, I keep holding his hand because I want to and it feels nice and warm. Strong, not as calloused as mine and I feel protected. Safe. My eyes avoid contact with his and I look up, prentending to finally notice we are in front of my house.

He brings me back to attention with a light squeeze of his hand. "Thanks for the surprise."

I look down at the paint set held in his free hand, and shrug. My voice sounds low and breathless even to me. "You're welcome."

Peeta smiles at that and leans in, erasing the short distance between us, toward my cheek to place a small kiss. I close my eyes, surprising even myself, today has seem to be full of them. My head turns at the last second, catching his soft kiss upon my lips instead. I can feel him freeze, feel his eyes boring through me as they shoot wide open. It's confirmed when I open mine and look into a sea of blue. I'm drowning. And it's not air I'm craving.

Our lips brush lightly. I know he won't take it further, he wants too, it's clearly on his face. But he's waiting for me, waiting for the ok. I want more, I want it to deepen, to get lost in it. But I feel like I've done too much already, even with this little gesture. Little steps. Little steps is all I can seem to afford from myself when on this new path of discovery. A path, that is so unknown, never in my life traversed before.

He sees and can read the inner struggle I'm having with myself. He makes it easy on me and slowly pulls away after one last soft brush of lips, a blooming smile claiming his face.

"I'll see ya tonight, Katniss."

I let go of the breath I was holding without realizing and smile back. "Ok. See ya, tonight."

He starts toward his house, my fingers hesitantly releasing his hand, sliding along his palm until contact is gone and he makes his way the short distant across to his home. On the porch he looks back one last time with a final small wave before disappearing inside.

I turn, biting my bottom lip to keep away a goofy smile I know will break out if I don't and I'm about to head inside my own home when I hear yelled out from inside his.

"YOU CALL THAT A KISS!"

"SHUT UP, HAYMITCH!" I yell back, good-naturedly, bubbling laughter behind a wide smile and shaking my head as I go inside.

Now where is the World's Ugliest Cat, I have a surprise for him too.

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 **A/N:** Thanks for the Reviews! Hopefully you guys enjoyed this 2nd chapter more. Please Review, Thanks!

 **Dinner for Three** , next!


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